Chapter 32

The remnants of the monstrous being crumbled into dust, a swirling gray cloud settling over the cracked hospital floor—leaving behind only a grotesque half-torso, shriveled and barely human, a twisted mockery of what it once was, yet… still alive.

The lone head and arm twitched feebly, clawing at the tiles with a single, gnarled hand. A weak gasp slipped from cracked lips, the sound rasping and faint, words lost in the wheeze—too quiet to catch, too broken to matter.

Mira's face twisted in irritation, her black eyes narrowing as shadows curled at her fingertips, dark tendrils writhing like eager snakes, itching to finish what Ryn's fire had started. "Just die, you pest," she muttered—her voice sharp as a blade, cutting through the heavy air with cold precision, her patience worn thin by the thing's stubborn refusal to fade.